


Heartlines

by cellard00rs



Series: CSAC series [5]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, Kisses, Weight Issues, sweet talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:36:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7136171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Chapter 20, Fidds and Susan share a moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartlines

Fidds wakes up to scent of something sweet.

He rolls around in flowered-patterned sheets and sighs happily before getting to his feet. He puts on his glasses and debates shrugging a shirt on. Right now he’s only wearing striped pajama bottoms and while he has a couple shirts at hand, he decides to go without.

Quietly he pads barefoot into the kitchen to catch sight of Susan. She’s fully dressed in a peasant blouse and flowing skirt, apron over top and with her back to him. He leans against the door frame and just takes her in. 

He likes these moments. 

The nice, quiet ones where he can watch her at work; bask in how glorious she is. It reminds him of before they were together – how he’d go into the Diner with Stan and Ford and merely catching a glimpse of her would send his heart racing.

It still does, but now there’s the added benefit of not feeling slightly sick to his stomach, nerves racked up high from anxiety. God, he’d been so afraid to talk to her. She’d just been…ethereal. And once she’d started serving them and become their regular waitress, it’d only gotten worse. 

Stanley never had a hard time striking up a conversation with her and once she’d started to talk, once they all got to really know her, Fidds’s crush just escalated.

He thanks the good lord every day that she was the one to make the first move, because he’s pretty sure if she hadn’t, he’d still be mooning over her.

Susan starts humming and Fidds smiles, feeling himself fall even deeper in love at the sound. He recognizes the song – sort of. It’s something by Florence and the Machine, dreamy and soft. Susan rocks back and forth a little, wooden spoon working rapidly in a big mixing bowl.

He catches sight of something white and frothy when he hears, “Are you to going just stand there? Or would you like a taste?”

Fidds chuckles and walks in, “Knew I was there?”

“Hmm,” she turns and grins, “Could feel you.”

“Well, I’d like ta get a feel of you,” he murmurs as he comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her middle. He buries his face in her dark hair and she laughs, “There’s a lot to feel.”

He draws back with a frown, “Whatcha talking about?”

She shrugs, not answering, and he carefully questions, “Susie?”

Susan licks her lips, “It’s nothing.”

“Oh, it’s somethin’ alright. ‘Specially if it upset my favorite girl.”

She draws away from Fidds and sets the bowl down. He sees her check the temperature on the oven and he knows she’s stalling. He waits patiently though, knowing eventually she’ll confess. 

One of the most appealing things about Susan is her inherent desire to be honest. When there’s something on her chest, she doesn’t wait long to get it off – sometimes it’s sheer seconds. This time it takes a few minutes, but finally she cracks, even as she keeps her eyes on her task, “It’s just…Bud said something. It kind of upset me.”

A loud breath huffs out of her, blowing some strands of hair from her face, “It’s nothing. Honestly. I shouldn’t even…”

“What was it?” He asks and while his tone is gentle, she shoots him a knowing look, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“You know.”

“Darlin’, if I know - why am I asking?”

“Fiddleford,” she warns, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Didn’t say it was.”

“No, but I know what all this,” she waves a hand up and down the entire length of his body, “is. You’re going to try and play the calm and collected card when really, much later on, you’ll go and knock the tar out of Bud!”

“I’d never!” he scoffs, “Have you know, I’mma gentlemen!”

“A southern gentlemen,” she intones with a smirk, “One who has been raised with the misguided idea that I need some valiant protector to fight all my battles for me.”

“You sayin’ there’s something wrong with chivalry?”

“No, I’m saying that if I tell you what he said, you have to let me handle it.”

Fidds’s jaw works and she sucks in a loud breath through her nose, putting down the bowl she can put both hands on her hips, “I mean it, Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket!”

“Now why you gonna go and do that?” he grumbles and looks down at his feet like a chastised child, “Using my full name like my Momma would…not sportin’.”

Susan bites her bottom lip and he knows she’s trying not to smile. Mainly because this is serious and if she shows even the slightest sign of amusement, he might not take her threat to heart. Finally he nods, “Alright, alright – promise, I’ll let you handle it. Won’t go off and pop Bud in the chin. Now what’d he say?”

Susan turns back to her work, focusing on it, and Fidds knows she’s doing is so that he won’t see it if she get upset. She’s moved away from the bowl to start focusing on a pastry bag.

She’s carefully using a small paintbrush inside the plastic bag as she explains, “I was on my break at the Diner. Me and some of the girls were talking about how, with the summer season coming, we’ll have to go swim suit shopping. I made some comment about how I should…”

She trails off, clearly struggling with getting it out as she tries again, “How maybe I should try losing some weight beforehand…you know, so I can look good.”

Her paintbrush wiggles slightly in her grip and he hears her curse to herself. Fidds isn’t exactly sure what she’s doing, but it looks like she’s using the brush to try and get three vertical stripes of orange food coloring inside. It’s not going well.

Scowling, she continues, “Anyway – like I said, it was break, I was eating. I had a big plate of spaghetti and Bud came by and heard our conversation and he saw what I was eating and pointed to it and said ‘well, that’s why you’re fat.’”

Finishing up the stripes, she shakes her head, “Then he tried to back out of it – talked about how I’m not fat, I’m just…thick or fluffy or something like that and how he actually likes a girl with meat on her bones and I…”

The words end as she picks up the bowl and she carefully starts putting the creamy concoction she’s made inside the bag. It’s a bit difficult to do solo and her struggles prompt Fidds to comes over and help. 

He takes the bag from her, silently holding it open as she continues loading it up, “Anyway, it’s dumb. I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t…don’t care what anyone thinks.”

“Yes. You do.” His words are spoken honestly, gently, and he sees her eyes glaze with unshed tears. She rubs at her face as she carefully takes the bag from him. 

He watches as she starts twisting it up, taking it over to a prepared cookie sheet. She starts piping out the mixture in careful circular motions and he gestures to them, “So, what’re these?”

“Orange meringue swirls.”

“Lookin’ mighty good.”

“Yeah,” she whispers and then he sees her bow in on herself a little. He can’t stand to watch another moment of this, coming over to rub a tender hand up and down her back. She puts the bag aside and turns, burying herself deep into his chest. He kisses the top of her head, “Aw, Susie…my sweet girl.”

“I hate this,” she mumbles, “hate being so sensitive. Why do I get hurt by stupid things stupid people say? Why can’t I just…just not care? I should only be concerned with what I think. What you think. What the people who matter to me think, but instead I…I just get-!

She lets out an annoyed whine before muttering, “I’m just so weak. Weak and stupid and I get all worked up about the dumbest-!”

“Hey now! Shh, shh,” Fidds hushes and he draws her back enough to kiss her forehead, “It’s not dumb if it upsets you, sweetheart.”

“But-!”

“No buts, coconuts,” he supplies and she scoffs, rolling her eyes, “Really?”

“Got a laugh outta you. Call that a win.”

“I suppose…”

He cups her face in his hands, “Susan Wentworth-”

“Getting back at me for using your full name?” she interrupts but he’s undeterred, “You betcha – Susan Wentworth – you listen ta me. You are, without a doubt, the sweetest, smartest, prettiest girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowin’.”

She looks unconvinced but he pushes on, “You feel, Susan. A lotta people don’t. You feel and you feel a lot and there ain’t no shame in that. ‘S half of what makes you so damned lovable. How much feelin’ ya got in you. How much consideration. You should never feel bad for feelin’, for being goodhearted. If you need to be upset, be upset – you ever try to keep yourself from smiling or laughin’ when you want?”

This gets a nearly inaudible ‘no’, but he catches it and nods, “That’s right – ‘cause that’s what you need to do. So, if you need to be upset – go ahead and do it, but just know you don’t gotta do it alone. I’m here for you. Always will be. I love you.”

“Love you too,” she whispers and she leans up, planting her lips on his. Fidds hums as her tongue dives into his mouth. They’ve done this several times before – kissed – but each time is so different, so special. This kiss is equal parts slow and hungry. Her hands burying themselves in his hair, fingertips carding through it. He feels the lightest scratch of her nails at his scalp and it ignites a fire in his chest.

His own hands go to her waist, give it a good squeeze, drawing her deeper into his embrace. His body is starting to stir to life, weight and heat settling right between his legs and she draws back a little, gasping at the feel of his budding erection, “Oh my…hello there.”

Fidds laughs, “Whatta ya want me to say, girl? You get my engine’s going.”

Susan pulls away from him, eyebrows raised, “Well, your engines are going to have to wait. I need to get these meringues done.”

“Evil wench,” he husks, “Seducin’ me and then leavin’ me this way?”

“Who says I’m going to leave you that way?” she asks in saucy tone, lifting her one lazy lid and dropping it in a wink. He smiles so hard his face hurts, “I tell you lately I love you?”

“Yeah – about five minutes ago.”

“Hasn’t changed. If anything, love you more.”

“Oh, you will love me more once these are done and I take care of you,” she boasts as she starts working again. 

With her attention focused back on the meringues he takes his time to look around the kitchen. As always, the sight of it gives him a sense of peace. Susan’s kitchen is one of the most well maintained rooms in the apartment she shares with Monica. 

Monica, who is weeks from moving out. The thought brings Fidds up short. He barely knows the girl, but he does know she pays half the rent. Without her, Susan will be in quite a pickle – one Fidds plans to fix.

Save for one little problem. Or a big problem - depending on who you ask.

Finding a clear space on one of the counter tops he hops up on it, idly swinging his legs back and forth, “Monica give you a date yet?”

“Nope – not exactly. But it’ll definitely be sometime next month.”

Fidds frowns, scratching at the back of his head, “You think Shandra’s plan ta get Stan back will pan out?”

She shurgs, “Maybe. But even if it does…do you think Stan and Ford will be able to work out whatever the hell they’ve got going on?”

“Sure as hell hope so. Otherwise I’ll be havin’ to knock some sense into the two of ‘em and apparently my girl doesn’t want me fighting.”

“I’m just always surprised by all this secret aggression you have.”

“Hey,” Fidds argues, “you gotta have aggression when you live with as many people as I did growin’ up! Siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles – every day was a fight for survival. Not enough food, not enough clothes – and we were all up in that place in the mountains. Wildlife every which way…I ever tell you ‘bout the time I fought a grizzly bear single handed?”

“Yes and I told you, I didn’t believe it then and I don’t believe it now. Besides, according to your mother – it was not a grizzly bear but a raccoon. And you didn’t fight it, you married it.”

Fidds glowers even as he feels his cheeks heat, “Momma told you that?”

She giggles, “She said you were five and adorable. She said you always chattered on and on about your raccoon wife.”

Fidds shrugs nonchalantly, “Well…she was a good wife.”

Susan beams and he can tell she’s closer to done with her swirls, the cookie sheet almost completely full. He looks around again when suddenly he notices a vase full of flowers. He doesn’t know why he didn’t see them the first time, “What’re those?”

Looking up from her work to see the vase, Susan look at them then at Fidds and then back again, “Funny – aren’t you some kind of genius? Going to college?”

“Yer point?”

“All those smarty-pants things and you don’t know what flowers are?”

He glares at her playfully, “You lookin’ for me to tan your hide?”

“Might be.”

“Kinky girl,” he teases and she sways back and forth on her feet. She puts the cookie sheet in the oven and sets the timer before turning to look at the vase again, “Those are from Preston.”

Fidds eyebrows rise, “Really?”

A nod and he scratches at his beard, ‘”He tryin’ ta steal my girl away?”

“Unlikely. You and me both know it’s not a girl he needs,” she remarks sagely as she starts removing her apron, “No, he got me those a few days ago. Another apology for his past, boorish behavior. Apparently they’re azaleas. He said he chose them to convey that he wants me to take care of myself, but that they also represent temperance and feminine beauty.”

Fidds sticks out his bottom lip, nodding to himself before he gets off the counter. He goes to the vase and plucks up one of the flowers, bringing it over to her. He bows as he offers it and she grins, taking it, “Why thank you, kind sir!”

“Your meringues done yet?”

“Not quite. They gotta bake for about an hour and fifteen minutes.”

He swiftly rises and gathers her back into his arms. He angels his head as he captures her lips. The kiss is deep - warm and passionate and when he finally draws back he rubs his nose along hers, “Whatcha doin’ in the meantime?”

“I got some ideas,” she whispers against his mouth before they start kissing again in earnest, the scent of oranges and azaleas in the air.


End file.
